Pool Shark
by ten miles til midnight
Summary: Two boys, one pool table, and one game of strip poker.


**Title:**  Pool Table

**Author name:** ten miles til midnight

**Author email:** ten_miles_til_midnight@yahoo.com

**Keywords:**  Dean, pool, pool table, Seamus, slash

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc.  No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  

**Author's Note:  **Hugs and kisses to my unbelievable betas Lissane and Miss Cora.  This was briefly posted once before.

"What's that?" Seamus Finnigan asked, eyeing the table sceptically as he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet.

"It's a pool table." Dean told him.  The two boys were standing in Dean's living room.  Seamus's was taking a break from his family's insanity and spending a few weeks in Dean's much calmer home.

"What's a pool table?"

"A table Muggles play pool on."

"Muggles have to use a table?"

"Yes.  They can't use magic, remember?"

"It looks strange.  How does it work?"

For a half Muggle, Seamus's lack of Muggle knowledge never failed to amaze Dean.   "It's the same as a magical field in Wizard's Pool, Shay."  

Three years ago, a clever Muggle-born wizard named Elbert Johnston grew tired of his pureblood friends mocking his love of pool and created a wizard version of his favourite Muggle pastime. Thus, Wizard Pool was born and took the magical community by storm.  Hogwarts had a pool field installed the year it came out, as did all affluent wizarding households.  The first annual World Wide Wizarding Pool Tournament was planned for next year and Johnston had become a celebrity.

            The Muggle and magical versions of pool were similar, except that there was no table in the wizarding version.  Instead, the game was played in a field of magic.  Players directed their balls with their wands and blasted temporary holes in the perimeter of the field to let the balls out.!

"What are those sticks?"

"They're cues.  They're used to hit the balls."

"You don't use your wand?"

"Shay, Muggles don't have wands."

"But you said that Muggle pool was exactly like wizard pool,  so you lied."  He stuck his tongue out.

Dean resisted the urge to push Seamus against the wall and suck on that tongue, patiently explaining the rules of Muggle pool instead.  Seamus listened intently.  Well, intently for Seamus, which involved alternating between lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet and wandering around the living room and looking at the Muggle book covers on the bookshelf.  After Dean explained the game, Seamus thought over the game and said, "We should play."

Dean shrugged in acquiescence and took two cue sticks off the wall, handing one to Seamus who eyed it warily.  Dean showed him how to hold it and the game began.  

Seamus was decent at wizarding pool.  While controlling and directing the balls was a skill that took too much patience for him to learn, the sporadic burst of magic that allowed the balls to roll off the magic field came naturally to him. This unfortunately meant that he showed little talent at the much calmer Muggle version of the game.

"Shite," Seamus swore as his cue missed the white ball entirely and scraped along the table.

Dean was far more adapt at pool than his boyfriend and neatly broke the pyramid of ball and sunk his first shot.  Seamus bounced over to the pocket and peered in.  "How did you do that?" he demanded of his boyfriend, who was leaning casually against his pool stick and looking far too smug for Seamus's liking.

"Talent, Seamus my man.  Talent."

"Talent my arse," muttered Seamus.

"Why don't we up the challenge?" Dean asked, his casual voice ruined by the slight smirk on his lips.

Seamus distrusted him instantly, but let his curiosity get the best of him.  "How?"

"Make it strip pool."

"Strip pool?  As in you take off your clothes whenever you make a shot?"  Seamus grinned provocatively and eyed Dean's lean torso.

"No, strip pool, as in you," Dean jabbed Seamus lightly with the cue, "take off **your** clothes when I make a shot."

Seamus mulled over the proposal briefly and agreed.  "That means you have to take something off, Shay," Dean reminded him.  

Seamus pulled off a trainer, tossed it over his shoulder and waggled his sock clad foot at Dean.  "Ha, Thomas.  You were hoping for some skin.  I fooled you, didn't I.  Now hurry, up and miss your next shot so I can have a go."  He licked his finger and ran it down Dean's exposed arm.  Dean shivered despite himself and raised his cue.

Three shots later, a barefoot Seamus bounced in agitation.  "Dean, this isn't fair," he whined.  "I wanna chance to play."

"You had a chance," Dean reminded him.  'If I remember correctly, you missed the shot.'

'But I want another chance.  Please, Dean?"  He wrapped his arms around Dean's body and batted his eyelashes against Dean's cheek.

Dean groaned.  "Take a shot, Shay."

"Really?"

"Yes, really.  Because I am such a wonderful, kind-hearted and generous boyfriend, I will forfeit my turn and let you have a shot."

"Aww, I'm so lucky."  Seamus leaned over and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek before circling the pool table, inspecting it for the best possible angle.

He leaned over the table, rested the cue between his thumb and forefinger, took a few experimental shots and hit the white ball, which skilfully evaded all of Seamus's balls, ricocheted off the far wall and rolled to a stop neatly in front of one of Dean's balls.  "Shite, shite, shite," he swore, stomping around the table in anger.

Dean laughed at his boyfriend's anger and preceded with his game, knocking another of his balls into the pocket.  Grumbling, Seamus pulled off his shirt, leaving him clad only in his trousers.  "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Dean eyed Seamus's lithe body and nodded.  "A very good idea."

Seamus sighed dramatically.  "This will turn out badly," he prophesised.

Dean took the bait.  "Why will this turn out badly, Shay?"

"Prolonged exposure to my Adonis like body will undoubtedly cause you to be unable to concentrate on pool and I clearly can't win the game so we will both remain clad, which is a horrible tragedy."

Dean snorted in response.

"Don't tell me that you can resist this," Seamus almost purred, slowly drawing his hand down his chest.

Dean rolled his eyes, unfazed.  "I think I'll manage, Shay.  All I need are two more shots."  Dean proceeded to sink the next two shots and advanced on his now nude boyfriend.

"Hey, hey, hey," Seamus protested.  "I should get one last chance."

Dean shrugged and angled himself so he was behind Seamus as he bent over to take a shot.  When his ball avoided any of the pockets, Seamus tossed his cue aside, grabbed his ball, and dropped it into the pocket by hand.

"Ha.  Take it off, Thomas," he demanded.

"No way, Shay.  You cheated."  

Seamus sidled up close to Dean and whispered in his ear, "Come on, Dean."  His hands drifted down to undo the buttons of Dean's trousers.  Dean swallowed heavily as Seamus leaned in to place a series of small kisses on Dean's neck.  "You want this," he whispered, his breath warm and moist in Dean's ear.  Dean bit back a moan.  

Seamus smiled and eased Dean's jeans off his lanky frame where they pooled around his ankles.  When Seamus slipped his hand into Dean's boxers, Dean lost the fight against his moan.  He grabbed Seamus' shoulder and propelled him towards the pool table, lifting him onto it..  He bent Seamus back against the table and leaned over to kiss him.

Seamus wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and arched against Dean's body as Dean's tongue slipped into his mouth.  Seamus bit down lightly and sucked on Dean's tongue for a long moment, fisting his hand in Dean's hair and pulling him closer.

Dean freed his tongue and resumed kissing Seamus, concentrating on the intoxicating rush of sensations.  Seamus's mouth was hot and wet and left a spicy aftertaste on Dean's tongue.  It made his head rush and lung burn, until Dean realised that the burning was his oxygen-deprived lungs.  He pulled away, gasping for air, before leaning back down and twisting his tongue down Seamus's throat again.

Later, time had grown fuzzy for a while, the two boys lay on the table, panting.  Dean looked over at Seamus, his eyes closed and a smug smile tugging his parted lips.  Dean leaned over and sucked on Seamus's upper lip to get his attention.

"Now," he whispered, "aren't you glad that Muggles use a table for pool?"


End file.
